Giving Up
by whyyesitscar
Summary: One-shot. My take on the series 4 finale--what happened with Naomily after the party in Freddie's shed? Not as depressing as it sounds, I promise.


_A/N: I'm working on a multi-chapter _Skins _fic, but after the wonderful end to the Naomily story arc, I had to get this out of my head. It didn't actually take shape until "Can't Make You Love Me" came on shuffle, so all thanks should be directed at Bonnie Raitt. First attempt at a one-shot, and first foray into the _Skins_-verse, so I hope I did it justice. I don't own any of the _Skins _characters, just the inexplicable urge to play with them (not like **that**, you perv). Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

_i'll close my eyes, then I won't see  
the love you don't feel when you're holding me  
morning will come and I'll do what's right  
just give me till then to give up this fight  
and I will give up this fight_

-can't make you love me, bonnie raitt

**Giving Up**

Here's the thing about love—you can't undo it. You can't just un-love someone, just like you can't be an un-girl or be un-black. Once you love someone, there's no taking it back. Love is an indentation on your heart; it digs in and seeps through your veins, circulating throughout you like blood, fueling you. It becomes part of you. Love is in everyone, in everything – every part of this world has its foundations in love. People say that they hate things, but they don't really—they just love something else more.

Love is a line drawn in permanent marker; it is a tattoo inked all over your body; it is the pair of glasses through which you see the world. You can't just stop loving someone because you feel like it. It doesn't work that way. If it did, love wouldn't exist. Love is validated by the fact that it's forever. We make it real every day by believing in it, by surrendering to it. Because when you submit the love, when you realize that you have a forever person, when you let it flood your senses and completely drown you, you've got it—you're free.

"_The people who make us happy are never the people we expect. So when you find someone, you've got to cherish it."_

* * *

Sometimes, when Naomi was alone, she liked to stare out of the window and make up stories about the peculiarities of the world. The crack in the pavement that was the result of a 300-pound, ass-crack-showing, grungy mover dropping some socialite's ostentatious sculpture; the discolored blob on the side of a building that had once been a carefully drawn heart, blackened by years of weather and cynical passers-by. She had had a lot of time to be alone lately. Her entire block was a story, inhabited by invisible residents who moved through the trees and on the footsteps of people too busy to care. They were wispy, made of smoke, and she could only see them when she wasn't looking. Someday soon, she'd have to move onto the next street. There was so much more to be discovered, even if it wasn't real. There were friends to be found in the recesses of her mind and the flickering light on water when her real friends weren't nearly enough.

Nothing real was enough anymore. Effy had finally gone mad (not that Naomi could blame her); Pandora and Thomas, the good couple, the pure couple, were tainted; no one had seen Freddie for days; Cook was destroying himself and he was too fucked to care. Even Katie was broken—Naomi might not get along with the elder twin, but even she could see that something was wrong. She wasn't surprised at that; she'd always been good at reading people. She was surprised at how much she cared. It was probably because it suddenly felt that no one cared about her—her rock was gone. Emily just wasn't there anymore.

Emily. Naomi wanted to say that she understood what Emily was going through, but she didn't. Just because they were going through the same thing didn't mean that it was together. They were seeing two completely different sides of the same issue—Naomi was feeling like a twat because she had totally fucked everything up, and Emily was feeling terrible because she got fucked over. That was as much as Naomi knew because she couldn't figure anything else out without Emily telling her, and Emily didn't want to talk to her.

It had been slightly bearable in the beginning because Naomi figured Emily was allowed some time to lash out, to completely ignore Naomi while simultaneously smashing her into a million tiny pieces. Naomi hadn't liked it—she'd gone to bed crying every night, wished it would stop—but she got it. She understood the pain because she felt it, too. She'd been feeling it ever since she screwed Sophia. She let Emily taunt her, let Emily fling words at her made of barbed wire and glass, let her pick at the scabs they created because she had to. Naomi wanted to comfort Emily, to apologize and tell her how wrong she was, but that wouldn't be fair. Because all those sharp words, the ones that lingered on even after they'd pierced her—they would pierce Emily, too, and make her bleed even more than she already was, and that just wasn't fair. Naomi had to let Emily feel things because there was no magical cure for what she'd done. This wasn't something you could kiss away, a bump on the head made better by loving words and comforting fingers. This was a deep fucking hole they'd both jumped into, and the only way to get out was to keep digging until they came out the other side.

But somewhere along the way, Emily had stopped trying. She hadn't stopped caring, Naomi knew that, but she had given in to the loneliness, accepted the fact that she wasn't one Emily anymore—she was Mandy-Emily, Effy-in-training-Emily, the Emily who lived with Naomi and nothing more. Naomi wanted to shake her viciously, tell her that she remembered living like that. She remembered how much she hated herself, how she was more broken alone than she could ever have been with Emily, even though the pictures she created of the two of them were horrifyingly hopeful. Naomi wanted to yell at Emily, tell her how much it hurt to watch her slowly die. But this wasn't Naomi's war anymore. Not to win, anyway. It was her battle to lose, and Emily wasn't fighting to win.

For all these reasons, Naomi crawled into bed with Emily. They hadn't shared a bed in a while; at first it was because Emily was too disgusted, but then Naomi realized that she couldn't sleep next to someone who didn't want to be loved. Now, though, on the brink of their destruction, Naomi didn't care. This was it—their breaking point—and Naomi would be damned if she was going to let anyone tell her what to do, least of Emily Fitch. She slid in next to Emily, watching her sleep. She really only looked at peace when she slept, and Naomi felt guilty that she couldn't make Emily understand just how much she was loved, how much she was wanted.

She propped herself up on her side, watching as the girl she loved woke up. Emily stirred, rolling over to meet Naomi's eyes.

"I love you," the redhead murmured after a moment.

Naomi's reply was soft. "Don't lie." It wasn't that she thought Emily didn't love her anymore—Naomi knew she did. But she also knew that the "I love you" Emily had offered wasn't true; it was an afterthought, a declaration thrown out because it was what Emily thought Naomi wanted to hear. And she did, but she didn't need to because she already knew it. What Naomi really needed was an "I'm sorry," or "I forgive you," or "I need you to forgive me." That wasn't what Emily said; "I love you" was not a catch-all panacea. It was not what you said to placate someone.

And that's what Naomi was saying—she was scolding Emily a little, asking her not to placate her. "Don't lie" was a suggestion for improvement, an admonishment that Naomi didn't deserve whatever Emily was doing. It was a thinly-veiled question, asking Emily to start believing in them again.

Naomi sat up and put on her shirt, suddenly unable to bear Emily's sad eyes. "My mum's coming back next week. Maybe you should go."

If Emily didn't believe in them anymore, maybe it was time for Naomi to give up.

* * *

Despite popular belief, giving up was not a bad thing. It was giving in that was terrible, giving in that meant death. Giving in was relenting; giving up was a release. It wasn't conceding; it was consenting. It was accepting that sometimes there are other ways of being you, other ways to solve your problems. Giving up, in this case, was releasing yourself into someone else, allowing yourself to be completely a part of another person. Sometimes, giving up was the best thing to do. It was the ultimate act of trust.

Naomi had tried fighting, she had tried being obstinate. She had tried yelling, and crying, and drinking, and every other thing you could think of.

The only thing left to do was to give up.

* * *

Naomi didn't know if she wanted to go to Freddie's shed. She'd love to see everyone else because then she wouldn't have to focus on Emily, but Emily was part of the 'everyone else,' too. Still, it was better than sulking alone. Alone there was no possibility of distraction.

She'd never been to his shed before, and she felt a little embarrassed at asking Effy for directions, but she had to go. If nothing else, she had to go for Effy. Effy was most likely the only one who understood what Naomi was going through—she, too, was a victim of devastating love.

She could hear everyone from outside; they sounded like they were having a passably good time. That wasn't how they should be, though. There used to be a time when everyone could function together and actually enjoy it. Even Katie and Naomi could put aside their differences for a few hours to please everyone else. This was not that time. This was a celebration of something they'd all lost—the thread that kept them a unit. As fast as they were unraveling separately, they were going even quicker together.

"Who's gonna start?" she heard JJ ask. No one spoke up, and Naomi opened the door—this was her chance.

Naomi looked down as she walked in, not wanting to face eight pairs of eyes boring holes in her.

"I will." Everyone looked at her, but Naomi only had eyes for Emily. She took a deep breath, assuring herself that she really was going to do this. "I've loved you from the first time I saw you; I think I was twelve. It took me three years to pluck up the courage to speak to you. I was so scared of the way I felt—you know, loving a girl—that I became a sarcastic bitch just to make it feel normal." It was getting harder and harder to rein in the tears she didn't know she had anymore, but she tried anyway because this was only for Emily, and she didn't want to cause her any more pain.

"I screwed guys to make it go away, but it didn't work. When we got together, it scared the _shit_ out of me because you were the only one who could ruin my life." Naomi's voice broke as she choked on the sob trying to get out, and she gave up again. She surrendered to the emotion because there was nothing else to do.

"I pushed you away; I made you think things were your fault, but really I was just terrified of pain. I screwed that girl, Sophia, to kind of spite you for having that hold on me." It wasn't an excuse, and it was a rather terrible thing to say—partially blaming her infidelity on Emily's love—but it was the truth. It had to be said.

"And I'm a total fucking coward because I got these," – for the first time, Naomi faltered, almost gave in to the fear – "these tickets to Goa for us three months ago. But I couldn't stand…" She wiped her nose, some vain part of her caring about her appearance even when she was baring her soul for everyone to see. She was completely undone, in only a way that Emily could do to her, and she was okay with it. Nothing else mattered except for the girl standing three feet in front of her, a distance that could have been the fucking ocean for all they knew.

"I didn't want to be a slave to the way I feel about you…can you understand?" She continued in spite of her tears, in spite of the fact that she was naked in front of the very people who used to scare her the most. They were fuzzy teddy bears compared to the fear Emily inspired in her. "You were trying to punish me back, and it's horrible. It's so horrible because really…I'd die for you. I love you. I love you so much it's killing me."

The waiting was the worst. Naomi had done months of waiting—waiting for Emily to forgive her; waiting for the courage to do something herself. She'd had all the waiting she could take. But it was out of her hands now, their fate. It was up to Emily, and those twenty seconds she waited were sucking the life out of her.

Naomi watched as Emily's face contorted in…grief? Relief? She couldn't tell. She watched Emily look to Katie, as if asking approval, asking for help to make the right decision. Naomi's breath got stuck in the back of her throat on its way down to her lungs; everything hinged on this moment.

She didn't really even notice Katie's slight nod because suddenly Emily was kissing her and they were both crying, and it was painful and life-changing and so fucking beautiful that Naomi could barely handle it. She couldn't believe that they were a pair again and not just two people; she couldn't believe that she had survived so long without Emily because there was nothing in the world like a kiss from her, there was nothing else that could completely lift her spirits so quickly. It was the best kiss she'd ever experienced. It surpassed any kiss she'd ever had, even every one with Emily because this was a kiss of understanding, of accepting that yeah, they were two fuckups and they were a bit messy. But they could be one gigantic, wonderful fuckup together, too. There was nothing saying that messy was bad.

Naomi hugged Emily, squeezed her for all she was worth. A ray of light was shining into their hole, breaking through the dirt and doubt, guiding them toward the escape.

* * *

"Fucking _finally_," Effy exhaled. Naomi smiled, laughing and sniffling into Emily's shoulder. She suddenly found that she didn't want to let go—ever. She wanted to stay in the comfort of Emily's arms, the only place she'd ever felt safe.

But let go they did; there was a room full of seven other people, after all. When Naomi finally noticed them, she could only see smiles. The balloon that had already risen within her chest swelled even more. Naomi hadn't really had other people be happy for her—she'd have to bask in this moment as much as she could.

Was it really possible to feel this happy?

"Well, now that's sorted…let's fucking party!" Cook screamed in that way that only he could. Naomi hadn't ever been happier for his lack of tact.

Shots were poured and toasts were given—mostly to her and Emily—and there was not a moment without laughter for the rest of the night.

This—the way the dirty shed gleamed as if it was made of marble; the way Cook's garish laughter was the most beautiful thing Naomi had ever heard; the way Emily's fingers were always touching a part of her, hand, back, tickling her neck, whatever—this was life.

This was love.

* * *

At some point in the night, Katie cornered her. The Naomi from a year ago would have been scared to face her, would have been afraid and hostile to whatever she said. Tonight, Naomi was curious because Katie really didn't seem that bad anymore. If anything, she seemed sad.

Katie motioned with her head for Naomi to join her outside. With a quick peck and a nod from Emily, Naomi obliged. They stood in silence for a few moments. It didn't bother Naomi; Katie would say whatever she had to say exactly when she meant to say it. Katie Fitch was not someone who said things just for the hell of it. Her words were calculated, and Naomi had always appreciated that, even if she didn't always like it.

"You know you're a fucking idiot, right?"

"Only when I'm around a Fitch." Naomi snuck a glance at Katie and they both burst out laughing. They laughed for a long time.

"So I guess this means you're going to go back to being, like, disgustingly cute," Katie said with a sneer that she only meant because it was her sister they were talking about.

"'Fraid so, Katiekins." The nickname that had once been an insult was now a term of…well, maybe not endearment, but it was closer to that anyway. Naomi smiled in spite of herself. "Any problems there?"

"Not unless you snog in front of me." Naomi waited; this wasn't what Katie brought her outside to say. "And not unless you hurt her again."

"I can't promise that I won't hurt her, Katie. I can't promise that she won't hurt me. But I can promise that I won't fuck her over ever again, that I won't stop loving her," Naomi said, her voice suddenly soft.

Katie seemed to be on the verge of tears as she nodded and headed back into the shed.

"Katie!" Naomi called out. Katie turned around expectantly. "Look, I know this is probably none of my business, but are you, you know, okay? You seem, I dunno…sad or something. Like…well, let's just say I haven't been afraid of you for a long time."

Katie smiled and leaned against the shed, waiting for Naomi to join her. "You're right. It is none of your business. And I am sad." She lowered her head, but it wasn't quickly enough—Naomi noticed the tear slowly falling.

"I'm sorry," Naomi whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Katie whipped her head around, eyes blazing and shattered at the same time. "Did Emily tell you anything?" she asked fiercely.

Naomi shook her head. "No, we haven't properly talked since, you know…"

"Yeah." Again, Katie stalled; again, Naomi waited. "I can't have kids," she blurted.

Naomi's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah," Katie spat bitterly. "I don't have a boyfriend; I can't ever have fucking kids; my parents are, like, broke, and—"

"Katie, shut up." Katie turned angrily toward her. "No, look—stop fucking _glaring_ at me; you want to hear what I've got to say, you twat—look, you're so much more than that. Fuck me, you're thick if you think all that shit defines you. Whatever happened to Katie Fitch?"

"I don't know," Katie muttered timidly. She reminded Naomi of the old Emily. For the first time, she could see that they actually were twins. "I don't know who that is anymore."

"Well, let me remind you, then." Naomi ticked qualities off on her fingers. "She's a total bitch, but caring when she wants to be; she's gorgeous when she doesn't look like a complete tramp; she's ridiculously loyal to the people she loves; and she's just as scared of love as the rest of us."

Katie snorted. "Did you just call me gorgeous?" Naomi smiled. "Probably only 'cause I look like Ems."

"You look nothing like Emily," Naomi said without thinking. "And, of course, I mean that in the best way possible," she quickly clarified.

"Why are you being so nice?" Katie didn't sound suspicious, just curious.

"Why are _you_?" Naomi echoed. For once, Katie didn't have an answer. "Look, Katie, love is fucking scary, right? It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, love Emily. No, actually, that's a total lie—loving Emily was easy. _Letting_ myself love her, that was terrifying. It sucks, putting yourself out there."

"Yeah," Katie agreed.

"But it's worth it, when you find someone. Always is. Now, it's getting entirely too somber out here for my taste. What say we go back inside, hm?" Naomi propelled herself off of the side of the shed. Katie smiled and walked toward the door.

Naomi planted herself in front of it, blocking Katie's path. "Uh, one more thing, Katiekins." She splayed her arms. "You need a hug."

"No, no, _definitely_ not…" Katie tried to push past Naomi, but to no avail. "Fucking let me through, Campbell." Naomi's eyes twinkled; Katie Fitch was in there somewhere.

"Can't let you pass, Katie. I may not have that many friends, and I may be a social twat, but I know my Fitch women, and they like their hugs." Naomi crooked an eyebrow, waiting for Katie to realize that she was right.

"Oh, fuck," Katie said, rolling her eyes. "You tell anyone about this, and I will _murder_ you." She sighed once more before stepping forward and hugging Naomi. She clung onto Naomi probably a little bit tighter than she had intended, but Naomi didn't say anything. She just rubbed Katie's back and waited for her to break it off.

Katie eventually backed away, looking threateningly at Naomi. "I mean it. I will kill you."

"It's okay to admit it, Katie. I'm charming. Don't worry; just say it. You'll feel better."

"Oh, fuck you, Naomi." Katie's smile gave her away; she didn't mean it.

Naomi smiled in kind. "Yeah, you too." She started to turn the knob.

Katie stopped her. "Naomi." She huffed. "Fucking…thanks."

"Only for you, Katiekins," Naomi said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"Oh, fuck you, lezzer," Katie sneered.

"Right back at you, you cunt," Naomi jabbed as they went back inside.

Appearances had to be kept, after all.

* * *

Sometime later, when the sun finally started shining again and Naomi actually felt like she was allowed to bask in it, she and Emily went home. To _their_ home, free of any parents, annoying family members, or nosy friends. The walk home was like nothing; Naomi could have been floating for all she knew. She could only recognize that Emily's tiny fingers were intertwined with hers again, that it was okay to touch her and that she didn't care if people noticed.

The world was beautiful again.

They got back sooner than Naomi expected, and she was suddenly afraid to open the door, as if the spell would be broken once they got inside, once they stepped in the place where they had learned to avoid each other for months.

"It's okay, Naoms," Emily prompted. She knew exactly what was going on in the blonde's head. Naomi turned the key and made her way inside. It wasn't a scary place; in fact, Naomi was noticing all the good things about it that she hadn't seen before – Emily still kept a flower on the kitchen table; she still left blankets crumpled on the sofa. The very pieces of their home that would have undone her yesterday became her strength.

"Emily…"

"Don't." Emily stopped her. She walked over to Naomi and grabbed her wrists. "You don't need to say anymore, okay? I heard everything. I know. Okay?"

Naomi nodded and kissed Emily on the forehead. She led her upstairs to their bedroom, where they collapsed on their bed, got tangled in their sheets and celebrated each other. They made new discoveries, revisited favorite places with soft kisses and gentle nibbles; Naomi held onto Emily until she couldn't separate from her, until she forgot they were two people.

She kept loving Emily until she could feel her head poking out of the hole, telling the sun that it was okay to be in that dark place, but she'd much rather be right there, out in the light that made Emily's hair glow fiery red and eyes twinkle teasingly.

* * *

It wasn't easy. Nobody had said that it would be; they were rebuilding their entire relationship, after all. They still had gigantic hurdles to jump over, miles-long bridges to cross. But at the end of the day, whether or not it was a good one, they always came back to their bed; Naomi would drape her arm across Emily's stomach, and Emily would snuggle into her, and they would both go to sleep feeling whole.

At the end of the day, they always had each other.

* * *

Here's the thing about love—it's sneaky. It creeps up on you when you least expect it to and mocks you, daring you to push it away. It knows you never will because you can't; how can you ignore the very reason we all live? You can try to run from it, and God knows we all try that once—but only once. Because when we finally give up and feel the love, we understand everyone a little bit better; appreciate the world a little bit more. We realize just how empty life is without love.

The only way to live is to embrace love, and in this case, 'love' was a petite redhead with a cute button and eyes that saw right through you in all the right ways.

It just so happened that when blonde embraced red, they fit together in ways no one had ever imagined—not like two puzzle pieces snapping together. More like paint colors blending together, dissolving into each other until they were inextricably mixed.

They gave up to each other, melting into each other's arms until their hearts had soaked through the other's chest, swapping places and affirming that they could never be anything but one.


End file.
